


Catching Their Breath

by plumandfinch



Category: Call the Midwife
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-21
Updated: 2015-08-21
Packaged: 2018-04-16 11:49:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4624266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plumandfinch/pseuds/plumandfinch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first time they touched, really touched, after they were Patrick and Shelagh, he came around to the passenger door in the mist-turned-rain and helped her out of the car.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Catching Their Breath

The first time they touched, really touched, after they were Patrick and Shelagh, he came around to the passenger door in the mist-turned-rain and helped her out of the car.

Her slim hand felt so natural in his and despite the windows of Nonnatus that looked down on the drive, she made no move to free herself from him. Patrick had to juggle for a moment, with only one hand but two things – her suitcase and a mildewed umbrella he found in the boot – to manage. He fumbled, not wanting to let go of her, until she reached over and took the umbrella. Their eyes caught and he was gifted a brief but sparkling smile for his efforts that made him feel giddy. They made their measured way from the MG up all those imposing stone steps, silently but hand in hand. He watched her, when they reached the top, she was dwarfed by the wooden door and staring unseeing at the peeling paint in front of her. Her impossibly pink lips pulled apart as she drew in a long breathe before turning to face him. “Patrick,” she breathed, “I have to do this alone. There are several formalities that I have to take care of and then I have to find somewhere to stay.” She looked again at the door with a combination of longing and sorrow that made his heart drop to the stone under his feet. They stood in silence, listening to the rain fall onto the umbrella as Shelagh stared and Patrick tried to breathe.

“Would you mind – this is asking so much, you drove all the way to…”, she shrugged helplessly and he nodded, “…but would you - will you - not leave?” A blush rose in her cheeks as she stumbled over her words. “Please, Patrick, will you stay with me?”

“Forever”, jumped out of his lips before he had any time to stop it. _Idiot_ , he thinks as soon as the word is out of his mouth, _blistering idiot_. It was his turn to feel the heat in his face. But just then, the miracle happened. Shelagh tilted her face up at him and smiled, “That sounds lovely.”

Patrick Turner was not given to jigging, but he gladly would have danced down the high street if she had asked. He wanted to leap off the steps and hop around in the rain and whoop and holler and bring the nuns out to see what the fuss was. Shelagh laughed then, blushing, and he laughed too and tightened the grip on her hand. She returned the squeeze and reluctantly let go, picked up her suitcase, and opened the convent door.

__

The first time they kissed, they were in the kitchen. Timothy had finally been convinced that it was truly time to take his bath and get to bed, not a time to loiter downstairs and talk longer with Auntie Shelagh. She and Patrick had settled into a nice routine of washing the dishes after dinner sometimes in companionable silence, sometimes in quiet conversation, and sometimes in lively discussion. Tonight, she washed and he dried and they worked mostly in silence. As she kept her hands busy in the warm water, Shelagh could hear Patrick hum snatches of a tune and Timothy thump around on the second floor. There was a particularly loud crash from upstairs which made them stop but a second later they heard the bathroom door close. “Boys!” chuckled Patrick. She smiled back at him and turned to the sink as he opened a high cabinet to stack away the glasses. The casserole dish presented a particular challenge and she focused on scrubbing it until it sparkled again. She blew a stray hair off of her face, washed the soap off the dish, and turned to triumphantly hand it to Patrick to dry but when she turned he was heart-stoppingly close. She froze, pressed against his chest that she could feel rising and falling as quickly as her own. The look in his eyes as they stared at each other made her feel wobbly and her heart pounded unevenly in her chest. He moved very slowly, to wrap his arm around her waist and gently lay his hand on her lower back. His free hand lifted the dish out of hers and placed it on the counter, all without moving his gaze from her face. The heat from standing so close to him did nothing to slow her heartbeat or her breathing, which had gotten quite ragged.

“Shelagh,” he whispered. Finding herself unable to make a sound in return, she gave him a small nod and held her breath. He laid his hand on her cheek, his touch making her eyelids flutter closed. She felt him lean closer and lay his lips on hers. Their kiss was slow and long and gentle and she melted and curled her arms around his back. She had had no inkling of how delicious it would be to stand so close to him, to feel him drop tiny kisses on the corner of her lips, to wrap his other arm around her and pull her infinitesimally closer. He pulled his head away and she sighed and dropped her cheek to his shoulder. They stood, catching their breath, until they heard the tell tale sound of Timothy bounding down the stairs.


End file.
